Dance of Madness: Chapter 7

Doomsday always smells like danger and sex, with sweetness underneath. Maybe it’s the combination of expensive perfume and champagne, or the scent of money and youth.

…Okay, I’m waxing way too poetic about a freaking nightclub.

We slip past the velvet rope with barely a glance from the bouncer outside. I’d love to say it’s because we’re all so cool, and regulars here by now. But it’s more that one of the last times we came, Laz happened to be here too with Bane, Mikhail, and a few other Bratva types, and he casually introduced us to the manager and the head of security, saying we were “permanently on the list.”

I’m not complaining. Doomsday gets a little wild at times, but it is seriously fun.

Another of the bouncers inside nods at us, gesturing for us to follow him to one of the big booths in the VIP area overlooking the dance floor.

Tonight, “us” is me, Brooklyn, Evie and Lyra—which is shocking, because ever since she married Carmine, she barely leaves the enormous Barone mansion on 5th Avenue aside from coming to rehearsals. Also with us tonight is Val, of course, along with Miguel and Jackson from the company, and a super-weird couple—I think their names are Kyle and Kylie?—that Val introduced us to about ten minutes ago outside. I’m starting to think they might both be his dates for the evening.

Never change, Val. Never change.

A waitress brings over our drinks, along with a bottle of champagne that is apparently “on the house”. After that, we’re off to the races.

The beat of the bass vibrates through the floor and up my spine as we sip bubbly and scream at each other over the music.

“Who are those two?” Brooklyn yells in my ear, nodding past me to where Val is flashing his most charming—it really is charming—grin at Kyle and Kylie, or whatever their names are.

Val really is like a brother to me. To all of us at the Zakharova. But any girl—or guy—in the company who claims to have never once found him attractive is a fucking liar.

The man is built from lean muscle, charm, sexual energy and swirling tattoos. It’s the same kind of vibe that Prince and Freddie Mercury had, which is why his social calendar is perpetually filled.

“Kyle?” I frown. “I think? And she’s Ky-lie?”

Brooklyn makes a face.

“I think they’re his date.”

She frowns. “Which one?”

“Yes.”

She smirks, rolling her eyes. “I can’t keep up with him.”

I giggle. “I don’t even try.”

Just as we both laugh again, movement in the corner of my eye pulls my attention.

Goddammit.

My smile fades as Alicia saunters toward us from another VIP booth, also with a glass of champagne in her hand, eyeing me like a shark who’s smelled blood in the water.

“Milena…” she says, smiling like poison.

“Oh, fuck, I remember you!” Val says loudly, pulling himself away from Kylie’s neck and smiling predatorily at Alicia. “Aren’t you that wannabe that couldn’t hack it and quit? Or did you get kicked out? I honestly forget.”

Alicia shoots him a cold look. “I resigned, actually. I had other endeavors that I wished to pursue besides following Kuzmina’s orders.”

“Couldn’t hack it.” Val nods wisely. “That’s all you had to say.”

Her gaze runs over Kyle and Kylie. “Still the company slut, I see.”

Val grins and loops his arms over their shoulders. “Guilty as charged, baby.”

Alicia rolls her eyes, then drags them back to me.

“Did you have fun the other night?” she says with saccharine sweetness.

My skin prickles.

Maybe.

Yes.

I shrug. “It was just a creepy old house.”

“No monsters in the dark?”

Her voice is mocking. I look her dead in the eye.

“Nope.”

Her expression flickers with—annoyance? Disappointment?

I mean, Alicia and I have never gotten along. But there’s a huge difference between “not being friends” and “sending someone to a dark mansion where you know there’s a masked man waiting to chase them and then try to fuck them.”

That’s just psychotic. And again, I’m not going to give her the satisfaction.

Alicia flutters her eyelashes, switching gears. “I hear Leo Debolsky’s back in the city,” she says, a pointed sharpness to her tone.

I shrug. “Is he?”

Her smile hardens. “I also hear he and your father had a very productive conversation.”

She lets that hang. I just blink mildly at her. “Did you really?”

“Indeed. Irina and I are very close.”

Shit. I always forget that Irina Lenkov, Alicia’s sidekick, is Leo’s cousin. Or second cousin or something like that.

“Who knows,” she says, stepping closer, voice lower. “If you’re still looking for monsters, maybe you’ll get to be Mrs. Debolsky after all.”

Before I can respond, a blonde, pink shape comes between us out of nowhere and jabs a stern finger at Alicia.

“Um, PS,” a slightly red-faced Evie slurs loudly.

I groan and brace myself. I love her to death, but it takes all of half a cosmo to turn Evelina loose on the world. And I’m suddenly aware that I haven’t been monitoring her alcohol intake like I usually do when we go out.

“You’re not invited to parties at my house anymore.”

I manage to suppress the giggle that threatens to break free. “Sassy Evelina” is like a Pomeranian with bows on its tail trying to take on a prison guard dog.

“Oh no,” Alicia sneers. “How will I ever survive the disappointment?”

“Hey, Alicia?” Brooklyn scowls. “I think you can fuck off now.”

“I’m just…” Alicia sighs dramatically. “I don’t know how I’ll deal with never getting to watch Evelina’s drunk ass of a brother make a fool of himself again⁠—”

She gasps as another shape lurches out of nowhere, grabs her roughly by the front of her dress, and dumps a glass of champagne over her head.

The whole booth falls silent and Alicia’s eyes bulge as they stare up at a furious-looking Val.

“Consider ‘you can fuck off now’ the polite version. Mine will be considerably less cordial. Walk the fuck away, cunt.”

Alicia purses her lips, her face going vermillion. Then, without another word, she yanks herself from Val’s grip, spins and marches away, dripping champagne in her wake.

I glance at Brooklyn. She glances at me. Then we both turn to look at Val as he rolls the tension out of his shoulders and sits down between his dates.

“What?” he shrugs. “That bitch can go fuck herself in the ass with a clawhammer.”

“Hear hear! Clawhammer!” Evelina crows, grinning sloppily before I reach up and delicately pluck a glass of bubbly out of her hand. “Heyyy! I was drinking that!”

“Yeah, you’re done, killer.”

She pouts but accepts it, sitting back down and resting her head on Brooklyn’s shoulder.

After all that, I need a second alone to breathe.

“I’m going to go pee,” I lie as I stand. “Back in a sec.”

“Want me to come?” Brooklyn asks.

I grin at a sleepy-looking Evie.

“Why don’t you watch her. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come,” Kylie drawls in a voice that quite honestly sounds like she’s on drugs.

“No, you won’t,” I smile at her.

Val rolls his eyes, mouthing “be nice” as Kyle and Kylie turn to each other and start making out behind him.

“Don’t catch anything,” I mouth back before I turn and head off.

I take the long way around to the restroom, trying to clear the buzzing in my ears and shake off the prickle at the base of my spine that won’t go away.

I don’t know why the thing with Alicia just now threw me off so much. Maybe it’s because it forced me to replay what I’ve been trying to block out all week.

A man chased me through the dark. He caught me, pinned me down, and yanked off my panties.

This is easily eighty-five percent of the fantasies I have deep inside me. But the reality was so much more.

More real.

More exciting.

More…everything.

And obviously, it made me think of the one other time I ever did anything like that…

I shake the thoughts away as I turn toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. I walk past a low-lit alcove, ignoring a guy sitting with two girls, snorting a line of who-knows-what off a little mirror.

A security guard is posted halfway down the hall, arms folded over a black dress shirt that strains against his chest.

He steps in front of me when I approach.

“I’m just looking for the ladies room?” I smile.

The security guy shakes his head. “Upstairs restrooms are closed for maintenance,” he says flatly.

I try again. “I’m, uh, with Laz?”

Okay, I’m not. But he did say we were “permanently on the list,” so…

The guy’s brow furrows, then he nods in acknowledgement.

“Apologies, miss. It’s technically closed tonight, but if you like, there’s a ladies room downstairs in the event space.” He nods to a roped-off staircase. “Go straight to the back. You’ll see the signs.”

I smile. “Why, thank you.”

My heels click loudly on the steps as I descend. The music gets muffled as I move away from it, and the air turns a little colder without the swarm of dancing, sweaty bodies.

A few dim sconces flicker on the walls, barely lighting the path.

At the bottom, I reach a huge, empty ballroom, the tables pushed to one side with chairs flipped upside down on top of them.

For a second I hesitate, my nerves prickling.

Everything down here feels off. It’s too quiet. Too still. Like the building’s holding its breath.

Then I catch sight of the door on the far side marked “ladies”, and I head over.

It’s dark inside, but the flick of a wall switch turns on elegant, trendy Edison bulb lighting. The bathroom is all fluffy white hand towels and brass accents, with a huge, gorgeous filigree mirror above a low, marble counter with an inset sink.

I move to it and let the water run before splashing my face a few times.

My hands are shaking.

Get a fucking grip, girl.

I reach for a towel and start patting my face dry just as the door clicks open behind me. I pull the towel away and start to glance up, expecting to see another girl who’s come down here since the restrooms are closed upstairs.

I never get the chance to raise my eyes all the way. Instantly, a hand fists my hair and slams me against the counter, pressing my cheek to the mirror as pure adrenaline explodes through my system.

The scream lodges in my throat as my breath fogs the glass in front of my face. I thrash, trying to shove back against the rock-hard body holding me. I flail, and fight, and kick⁠—

Then I freeze.

Because the voice that growls in my ear is familiar. It’s one I’ve been hearing in my nightmares and my fantasies since the other night.

“We didn’t get to finish, little princess.”

When my eyes snap to his, reflected in the mirror, my whole world goes sideways.

Because the man pinning me to the glass…with my hair wrapped in his fist and a savage, feral glint in his haunting green eyes…the man who chased me through Greymoor the other night…

Is Nero De Luca.